


But I, with mournful tread

by alchemystique



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years ago, Miles Matheson returned to the militia camp with Rachel, Charlie and Danny in tow. Nine years ago, Sebastian Monroe began to train Charlie, his one source of humanity in the dark pit that had become the Monroe Militia. Five years ago, Charlie's brother Danny died fighting for the rebels. Charlie, now twenty-one, is facing down a second apocalypse, growing discontent among the soldiers fighting her battles, opposition from Texas, Georgia, and Mexico, and a few startlingly similar prisoners who seem to both be trying to drive her insane. CharliexBass, past CharliexJason</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I, with mournful tread

**Author's Note:**

> I have not watched past 2x10, and may not now that I know what direction the show is going with the relationships on this show, but I'm a sucker for post-apocalypse anything and even more of a sucker for the May-December relationship. I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> (Review are my lifeblood and motivate me to write faster. Just...so you know.)

_She is sixteen and Sebastian Monroe is teaching her tactics while they parry_

_He’d grinned, all teeth and bright eyes, when she’d called him out on using only one blade with her, laughing as she hissed about not needing handicaps with him, and now, as Danny watches on, all petulance and jealousy at not being allowed to train as well, (he is twelve and his world is small and true, black and white and rebellion is the worst thing anyone could ever do), General Monroe is trying to distract her with strategy talk, but she’s been doing this for three years and she **knows** his tricks._

_His blade arches through the air, catches on her shirt, and the edges have been dulled for practice swords but she makes a small noise, like a hurt animal, and he pauses, concern etched into his eyes, takes half a step forward with his swords lowered._

_Charlie pounces, batting his left hand free of it’s blade as she aims a high kick to his sternum, and he stumbles just enough that she can trip him._

_He casts out wildly with his right as he falls, reaching for the blade tucked against his thigh, but she kicks at his hand as she falls into a crouch, straddling him, her blade pressed against his neck._

_They breathe heavily, and she watches him as he puzzles through his options, but the only advantage she’s left him with is brute strength and if this were a real battle the blade would slice clean through his neck before he got a chance._

_”That was a dirty move, Charlotte.”_

_”Reading your opponent is half the battle,” she parrots, and he grins, head dropping to the dirt on a laugh, and she waits, waits, waits, because he hasn’t yeilded._

_And then her skull is on fire - a long lock of hair being yanked hard, and he’s bucking her off of him, grabbing for his just-out-of-reach sword while she blinks back tears, eyes watering from the pull of her scalp and then he’s got his sword pressed up under her chin and her own flipping idly in his free hand._

_He’s grinning, teeth white and eyes a little wild, and Charlie clamps down on the irrational urge to tackle him to the ground and kiss him, and his blue eyes twinkle as she raises her hands._

_”Yeild._

___\----------_ _ _

___ _

___“General Matheson.”_ _ _

___ _

___Charlie glances up from her perusal of the coded letter from the Georgia Federation, still unable to decipher the strange curling script as anything other than scribbles._ _ _

___ _

___“Captain Baker.”_ _ _

___ _

___He nods, smile in place and a familiarity to his step as he slinks into the tent, and Charlie wonders if he ever feels guiltily about defecting, turning coat to follow her across the country, decimating the militia he’d helped form, wonders if he can stomach being more loyal to a girl he’d known in pigtails than the man who’d helped save his life and then built up armies and a republic with. If he does, he doesn’t make it obvious._ _ _

___ _

"News from Colorado?” she asks, curious to know what had happened to make Baker leave _Neville_ in charge. 

___ _

___“Nine pendants so far, but we’re fairly certain Randall has all the rest. He’s got...hostages.”_ _ _

___ _

___“Hostages?”_ _ _

___ _

___“Your mother. The Grace woman Ben mentioned. And…” he pauses, glance wary, and Charlie feels that obnoxious, familiar knot form. “And Monroe.”_ _ _

___ _

That was what they called him now, just ‘Monroe’, not General, not Sebastion, not Bass, just… _Monroe_. Like if they just thought of him as another man, they could forget the way they had all turned tail and left him in his crumbling palace, like they could torget that once, they’d all respected him, been loyal to him. 

___ _

___King of the Castle, he’d been, but now he was nothing but a useless bargaining chip in a war he’d already lost._ _ _

___ _

___“And my father?”_ _ _

___ _

___The glance Baker gave her was more than she wanted to know - so it was common knowledge now. The man she’d called dad, the one who’d been in hiding since the Monroe Militia had taken the rest of them, her and Danny and Rachel, the man who was Miles Matheson’s brother, the one Charlie had barely remembered the face of when he entered her camp with a surrender and a mission. The man she’d once though she shared blood with._ _ _

___ _

___That, she supposed, was still true, but._ _ _

___ _

___Not her father._ _ _

___ _

___Between the Matheson’s and Monroe, the lies and betrayal were enough to fill a novel._ _ _

___ _

___“The war clans?”_ _ _

___ _

___“The border clans have all agreed to the terms. Duncan and a few of her alliances took the commission, just like you thought they would. The rest will either join or be taken by force.”_ _ _

___ _

___Charlie’s eyes snapped to his, her hand twitching nervously to yank the cuff of her shirt over her palm, fabric rubbing the scar there for the barest hint of a moment. “If they don’t surrender, I want them destroyed.”_ _ _

___ _

___“Sir?”_ _ _

___ _

___“They’re rapists and murderers and they’ll continue that way with or without my rules. Unless they’re dead.”_ _ _

___ _

___The look his gives her is concerned, but Charlie could care less. She’s seen what clans can do, untempered by rules or law. There’s no place for men like that in the world anymore. Not her world._ _ _

___ _

___“Permission to speak freely, sir?”_ _ _

___ _

___Charlie nods, and watches Jeremy visibly relax his stance, his limbs loose and free as he sits in the chair before her._ _ _

___ _

___“The Patriots are going to be a problem, Charlie.”_ _ _

___ _

He says the word the same way she thinks it, spit and fire and _wrong_. Patriots. It’s been eighteen years. There is no more USA. 

___ _

“They’re going to be a _big_ problem. They’ve got Mexico but the balls and Texas is close to defecting. If Randall gets into the Tower with your mother like he’s promised them he will they’ll blow us all to pieces and blame you for the destruction. We may need these clans.” 

___ _

___“That’s not an option.”_ _ _

___ _

___“I know you don’t like their methods, but -.”_ _ _

___ _

" _It’s not an option._ ” 

___ _

___“Charlie…”_ _ _

___ _

___“They’re ruthless, and they scare people, and they make more enemies than they do allies. I can’t control them.”_ _ _

___ _

___And that’s the sticking point. Charlie cannot make them into compliant little soldiers - they’ll do what they want, when they want, regardless of orders, and they’re as likely to destroy a town of civilians as protect it._ _ _

___ _

There is _no place_ for them in her world any longer. 

___ _

___“Of course, sir,” he says, and that is that. “And...Captain Matheson?”_ _ _

___ _

___“His mission is classified, you know that.”_ _ _

___ _

___“Of course.”_ _ _

___ _

She wonders if it irks them, to see their former leader doing grunt work at the behest of his niece-daughter-leader, or if maybe they’re just glad he’s not in charge any more. She wonders in they know _why_ he’s always sent away, far away on missions she doesn’t want to know the details of - just whether or not the objective was completed. He hasn’t failed yet. 

___ _

___“Go get some rest, Captain Baker, you look like death warmed over.”_ _ _

___ _

___“Feel like it, too,” he tells her, charming grin in place and he slides out all ungainly limbs and exhaustion, and Charlie returns to staring at the coded message on the desk, waiting, hoping for it to magically make sense._ _ _

___Unsurprisingly, it never does._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Oh Captain, My Captain" - by Walt Whitman


End file.
